Adventures of Bat Lash & Jonah Hex
by anoneight8
Summary: Though near opposites in personality, Bat Lash and Jonah Hex remained two of the west's most dangerous men. Entertainment and trouble were sure to follow wherever they crossed. Also featuring Tallulah Black and possible future appearances of others.
1. Another Morning

_**Author's Note**_: Reviews are welcome, but this was only done for quick fun. Characterizations are probably a mix mash of old and new comics, and of no definitive piece of the timeline either. But I love both, and get a kick out of these two in the new Jonah Hex comics, and how they play off one another with their odd friendship. So I just got the bug to write a bit. This first chapter has a little more Bat than Hex. But I have a bit more planned for the future with possibly the additions of more of those friends Hex utterly denies having, or possibly other favorites of mine. So we'll just have to see if it gets a few more chapters in or not. Thanks for reading anyway, if anyone does. I think their whole rough and tumble group is very entertaining and under-appreciated as a whole in the DC-verse.

* * *

Life could often seem like only a string of violent moments, destined always for the same inevitable conclusion. But a man couldn't allow himself to fixate permanently on such unhealthy thoughts. It was the lulls between the storms that had to be appreciated. This was necessary if only for a soul to stay acquainted with sanity at all.

And even after all these years of running, only one false step ahead of a six foot trench at any given hour, Bat Lash still hadn't become the kind of person who could truly punish himself for the past or present. No matter how many lies, thefts, or deaths lay behind or ahead of him, he still sought warmth and comfort in whatever form it might offer itself. Guilt had yet to surmount those deep seated desires.

And this morning, it was an old mattress which became preferable to a hard bed of dirt. A body beside him far better than another night on his lonesome, and a morning bird's song sweeter to his ears than any coyote's hungry yowling out in the desert twilight.

His eyes squinted lazily up into the light now scattering in through dusty window panes. The talkative finch perched out on the windowsill seemed oblivious to any reservations of worn outlaws residing within. It was morning for all the little interloper knew, time to carry on as always and make its presence known in this equally ugly and beautiful world the only way simple instincts said how.

The man puckered his lips on a whim, mimicking that kindred spirit in a melodious whistle as the small bird carried on. Nature and music…two more beautiful distractions in his mind. But the little thing couldn't hear him from beyond the glass. Nor did Bat receive any appreciation from within for his efforts.

"…You fancy yourself an overgrown flute, stranger?" Spoke the woman beside him in all the perturbed clarity of half-wakefulness.

"Ah. Sorry, darlin'." He apologized without missing a beat, though inwardly chiding himself just as quickly for waking the company so soon. She'd likely have him gone, and he wasn't quite ready to lose this yet himself. Last night's cash could only account for so much. And unless he was willing to fork over even more of those dangerously acquired wages, she wasn't obliged to humor him much farther.

"But if that tune wasn't to your tastes, Miss, care to enlighten with another request? Anything fonder to the heart? I do a pretty darn amazing meadowlark as well I'm told…or perhaps even something with words?" He offered with a saccharine grin, one arm still circled lightly around her bare waist. The man wouldn't give up easily. Not when everything outside this room was so barren and uninviting by comparison. He'd been as kind and pleasant as could be hoped for in the short hours they'd known each other. Maybe that sentiment could provide for at least a little extra consideration now?

But she was clearly not yet as enthralled as she'd seemed the night before as her eyes only kept with his. "I never much had an ear for music, Mister," she countered. "There are only certain things I can consider muhself good enough to make a trade on. That's all I have right to worry with."

As disheartening as the statement was to the depth of her character, he didn't yet allow his smile to falter. Some of the women might swoon and carry on like schoolgirls just to part a man more quickly from his funding. While others could behave with all the coldness of a tycoon, blockading a precious resource they knew you needed far more desperately than they did. He much preferred the former type of course. But he also had the patience to at least attempt and goad it back out as it'd clearly existed the night before.

"And I do appreciate that nubile grace of yours, Ma'am…very much so." he murmured warmly, possibly fishing for a compliment himself in it all. He didn't doubt his own abilities of course, but a bit of ego stroking could also never bring a frown to his face.

But his acquaintance still seemed a little too thoughtful towards business alone as she eventually answered only in reference to the generous amount paid before. "You cleaned those boys out in the saloon…I appreciated that."

He knew well enough how jaded a woman of the world's oldest profession might have become to anything but the cash which came beforehand. But he was certain he didn't want to part with anymore. He still needed to buy supplies for whatever trouble may face him next. There was never a real plan, but moving from state to state became at least a little easier whenever food and bullets were equally affordable.

He only responded kindly after another moment though, "Yes, Ah'm sure that you did…perched on my thigh like a siren, pouring the wine as if it were nectar, and riling me to victory each hand with a few discreet moves of your own." It'd made it a little more troublesome to stay focused and cleanly cheat the entire table of course, with a woman's hand wandering so persistently below his belt during each poker draw. But it'd made for an enjoyable evening over all. He continued with the trademark flattery, still hoping to negotiate for further, albeit cheaper time together. "You, dear, had to be the most _tempting_, raven haired representation of lady luck I'm certain those unwashed gentlemen had ever seen…"

She seemed to at least take some shine to the gleam in his eye and the velvet in his voice at this. But the war was not yet won, even as her fingers found his bed ruffled hair to a bit of his surprise then, starting to gently stroke through it in the same patterns he imagined must have been practiced on so many others before him.

The woman watched him with a fitting curiosity before finally posing her question aloud. "But you think you're just too special don't ya? That you aren't anything like those roughnecks you were clowning with last night…"

"Mmm?" He feigned brief ignorance, though certainly not complaining as long as the touches remained free. But he did keep his eyes on her at the slightly accusing words, even as he felt his muscles relaxing predictably all the same. How easily women must see all the little puppet strings of men. "I've been called many things in this life, Miss…see if you wouldn't believe some of them yourself after a while."

She didn't seem fazed at the thought of offending him, or at whatever he was now implying about himself. Not that he gave her too much time to think on it at all, taking the initiative to begin kissing along one of her collarbones at the first open opportunity as she'd shifted.

It was a bit of a calculated self defense as well of course. He knew well that certain directions of conversation could only end up unhealthy for the both of them. But the gamble seemed to pay off handsomely when that sentiment finally brought a smile to her face.

"Well…for _whatever_ ya are, you do have the softest head a'hair of any dog I ever did pet…and a pair of the bluest eyes. I'll admit that to you at least…even if you're the oddest fella all the same."

Her grip in said hair only tightened as he teasingly nipped a shoulder in response, and it was then that he knew he had her. He couldn't resist a prideful smile into her soft skin as their legs gradually started to tangle once more. "Then don't kick me down the street, darlin'. You know a good mutt never has a proper place to go..."

"…but-" He didn't give her time to protest where this was obviously going, sensing a moment of weakness and pulling the girl into an abrupt kiss as he shifted them quickly so she was beneath him again.

It had all seemed fine and dandy too as her body didn't fight or tense, but appeared to quite enjoy the surprise as the kiss quickly deepened. His spirits were naturally put on the rise as he'd thought boldness had won the morning.

Yet it wasn't to be. Even if they both seemed ready and willing for another lengthy experience together, she still had much more on her mind than she'd been letting on. And a guilty conscience was never much conducive to romance. This was at least one of the reasons he enjoyed putting his own out to pasture almost around the clock.

In fact, it was only a few moments later when her body language had then decided to fully reverse itself, violently in fact. He didn't have time to make much more than a hurt grunt of surprise as the woman abruptly bit his tongue instead of further meeting it. Reflexively, he'd shoved her down in defense, jerking his face away in a harsh glare. "The hell, girl! Make up your mind!"

The abrupt rise of his voice and the speed of his movement were obviously just as unexpected. The woman looked more startled at the sudden fierceness than he'd meant to invoke, but she interjected quickly before he could say a word more. "I…I didn't know how else to stop ya quick enough! But it ain't that, I…" Her eyes flitted away nervously, as if his own fiery blues suddenly had power to harm. "…I like ya enough, really…but we don't have the time, they're-" Her fists tightened against the mattress. "Dammit you idiot, don't you know _who_ you robbed last night? I was just supposed to stall ya, but…I'm sorry! _Please_…"

The room was quiet for a painfully long moment, save for maybe the girl's heart pounding up into her ribs as she feared further strong reaction in response to the sudden confession. But she simply got to stare back up to him as her strange client gave only an eventual sigh of weighted resignation. And then, to her further shock, another abrupt kiss as if to apologize for the flicker of his temper before.

God, he'd thought this had been heading in a much kinder direction, and was more disappointed than anything else to tell the truth. With obvious reluctance, he finally pulled away from his pretty conspirator. But was it made even sadder by the fact that this situation _wasn't_ completely novel? "Well, if you've decided on that truth now…then the fact is, Ma'am, that they don't know who robbed _them_." He didn't give her time to ask, only continuing. "I appreciate your change of heart regardless though." Her look of worry was genuine enough, though whether more for him, or now _because_ of him couldn't be said. "I'm supposing I might have time to pull my pants on before these friends of yours break down the door at least?"

She tried to agree, her new anxiety seeming to more than make up for the lack of much of his own. "Well…yeah, maybe. That bird woke you up a little earlier than I figure they'd been expecting. Wanting to get you in your sleep and all after I'd tired you out, but-"

They both paused at the distinct sound of many heavy footfalls rapidly rising up the staircase.

He frowned, frustrated in what was clearly only becoming a more unfortunate situation. The morning had looked so promising. Though he couldn't help but find insult in their idea of opportunity. "I hadn't been _that_ tired, darlin'."

* * *

Out of the many things a man like himself could find to hate in this world, wasted time was likely right near the top of the list somewhere. Every sunrise and sunset was only another day the trail could go cold, or worse, some damned fool would get lucky and get their hands on his bounty before him. The train hadn't run through town the day before. He'd had to sit on his information all the way through to this morning.

He'd camped outside the settlement however, not feeling the need to waste money better spent on supplies for now with unneeded lodging. But he wasn't so averse to being among the bustle of the townspeople that he wouldn't return at least slightly early for a full stove cooked breakfast before the train was due in at eight.

The man arrived into town unbothered, as per the usual attracting far more stares than all else. He ate alone, mind disinterested in anything other than his current plans. Two days by train and he'd be to Hamilton. There he could pickup his targets and then be on to Tyson's Ridge before nightfall to collect the bounty and get himself a new horse. Damned if it wasn't a mess to have his last shot out from under him the way it had. Many ways to rile his temper to a boil, and that certainly was a good one. A good horse was no disposable thing.

Steak, eggs, and potato hash all went down rather quickly as he chewed, ignoring the squeamishness of the bar keep forced to watch him. Even a bit burnt, and hardly seasoned, the food was at least something different than the deer jerky he'd been subsisting on the last few days. With his coins left on the counter just minutes later, he'd hoisted his bag again and headed for the door.

But it wasn't going to be a quiet goodbye in this town for him, not at all. He'd barely had time to turn his boots onto the porch before he'd heard the first shot, and saw some half naked son of a bitch go rolling down a tin roof across the street in a flurry of broken glass and the familiar whiz of bullets.

* * *

Like so many before them, they rightly may have had him if they'd only possessed the sense to shoot before speaking. You couldn't give a man like him even a moment to forge a new plan. He'd certainly take whatever option was available to him. Like anyone else, he had no fondness for jail cells, nooses, or lonely graves.

They'd assumed him cornered enough, having just stepped into a second pant leg before they'd kicked the door wide off its hinges. And he'd known they were nearly right in that assumption, and that he'd be bleeding no matter what decision he made. But between glass and the organ rupturing holes of several large caliber guns, he'd always choose the former. They'd barely stuttered his name accusingly before he'd had one shoulder up and out through the shattering panes.

There hadn't been much chance of aim in a landing however, because of all the hurry. He'd just made sure to keep his gun belt in a death grip as he'd tumbled, hoping all the while not to break any appendage too important to him as he'd finally left the roof and hit the dirt in a violent roll.

If the pain was extreme in any one area, he didn't know it then, adrenaline being a helpful ally in at least that regard. But the whole acrobatic maneuver had only been meant to get him out of immediate harm's way. He'd have no chance of true escape into the desert as poorly attired as he was, barefoot and shirtless. Nor was he very fond of abandoning the rest of his possessions upstairs, few though they may be.

His tongue worked by default while his mind continued to rethink the ever changing scenario. "Gentlemen! Can't we discuss this more civilly, before being motivated to needless violence? Such a lack of hospitality to bushwhack a harmless traveler so little time after sunrise! I haven't done a thing so personal as to merit a mornin' like this!" His hands went up in helpless innocence, even if one now carried his gun.

He was considering their numbers, the angles he'd aim for, and whether or not he intended to wound or kill. A wounded enemy would usually be preferred as less drastic. But without having time to reload his own gun, that strategy could easily endanger him again if men with too great a motivation towards harm were left very able. He wished he knew their full vendetta. Was it really just about wounded pride and loss of money? If only that, his resilience may startle them enough to back down. But if not…

* * *

The bounty hunter betrayed little surprise, even as immediately as he'd recognized the flowery words and the too well tailored, pinstripe pants that suited them. If Jonah Hex had been the type of man who believed in supernatural forces governing the whole of men's fates (he adamantly wasn't), he would likely have told said forces to go and bed their damned mothers multiple times over by now. It was sheer unnatural the many, many times he'd happened upon this one man in such an expanse of territories and nomadic cross country travels.

But as one sided as the fight should have been, with seven bandits against one scrawny fool who seemed to only enjoy talking himself into a deeper and deeper grave, Jonah knew not to be impressed when the direction of the skirmish inevitably changed. The distraction of the younger man's voice, as annoying as it could often be, sometimes could also take a more comparable function with that of a snake's rattle. Bat Lash was giving them ample warning in his own way. But obviously they didn't know him well enough to understand the concept, or they were just too damn stupid as they simply barreled down the stairs and out the door like a mess of hogs to slaughter.

Hex's only wonder was which way Lash would decide to take the situation as the rapid gunfire of his sixshot broke the air at last. Bat always professed a dislike for what he called _unnecessary_ violence and killing, an issue of practicality they inevitably butted heads on many times. But while Jonah always stood by his words, Lash's limits on what was right and what was wrong seemed to change about as often as the stupid flower in his hat did.

It looked like he was still agreeing with his play as the gentleman today though, as most the bullets went straight for the guns aimed against him. Though still piercing through hands and blowing away fingers that didn't let go quite quick enough.

Even with Bat only having six bullets at the ready, all seven men were wounded. One had been mule-stupid yet again, standing too close in front another to make a clean path through both. It seemed it might end there too, with the bastards mostly in shock as to what had just occurred. But one of them either had the idiocy or the guts to remember the knife in his belt next, taking it quickly in his now _only_ workable hand before making a sudden charge at the gambler.

The whores had all come out to watch by now as well of course. Huddled at the porch railings in all states of undress, likely having just deserted the beds of their Johns for a chance to see the commotion. It was certainly no surprise to Jonah either as several began wailing not so unlike a bunch of cats, carrying on for their remaining knife wielding bandit to not cut up the pretty gringo's face too badly.

* * *

He knew it was cruel to take the use of a trigger finger permanently away from any man. Especially one who may need it simply to survive in a hell hole such as this. But he'd given these men a chance for kindness, and they'd just plain ignored him.

The glint of the knife metal in the sunlight took his full focus once more as the bandit charged him with all the grace of an overweight bull coming to the matador.

A woman's voice came from a balcony somewhere. "_No, Fernando! Don't kill h_-"

But the butt of Lash's pistol only connected across the stranger's face in a bone splintering crack as soon as the other had first entered striking distance.

The gathered onlookers were immediately hushed to silence as more blood met the ground. It poured from the man's nose and mouth as he'd buckled instantly towards the dirt.

Lash suddenly wasn't sure if the man was unconscious or worse as the body had gone so abruptly still. It was actually enough of a surprise to give him pause. Because Christ knew he'd just intended to bring the man to the ground and really no worse. Bat caught the stranger by the collar before he'd even fully fell though, holding him up in question even as he kicked the knife away from the now limp hand.

* * *

That man was dead. Busted his skull too hard. Jonah didn't even have to consider it, but he waited regardless. Inwardly becoming more and more frustrated the longer Bat seemed to lose focus at the realization of murder. He couldn't be idiot enough to lose track of his surroundings for that many seconds could he? Not even over some soft headed guilt that seemed to come and go from his personality as erratically as the flicker of firelight.

The bounty hunter seethed, his own instincts beginning to become deafening as he first heard the soft metal ting of more spurs walking from the alley on their left. It wasn't his business and there wasn't a lick of sense in diving into a mess he didn't make, for a man he shouldn't give two shakes about.

Years before today, Jonah had known he didn't need or want friends ever again. After all life had shown him, it'd been far smarter to never again offer that opportunity for trouble. So why he'd collected any man, especially _that_ man, to now be a burden in this way was beyond him.

"DAMMIT, YA IDJUT! THEY AIN'T DONE WITH YOU YET!"

* * *

Bat startled at the yell, far more than if he'd heard another gunshot. There wasn't even a moment's hesitation for his brain to connect the voice to any other soul but that of its foul tempered, demon of a master. As local folklore often said, the one whose only true accompaniments were that of death and the acrid smell of gunsmoke. Though it hadn't taken long in their friendship until Lash had likened Hex to that of death himself, instead of just a harbinger of it. Why else would he and Jonah so often find their paths as one?

But since he so accepted Hex's presence as inherent to the natural order, and thus didn't have to wonder much on the abruptness of it, Lash's mind was then free to proceed in processing exactly what Jonah had said.

Out the corner of his eye he'd finally seen it then, the new men, and his body had only told him to dive immediately for the dirt. But they hadn't been too slow themselves, with their shotgun fire still catching him across the back in a bloody spray as he'd hit the ground.

The shallow angle wasn't as lethal as it was painful he assumed. But the intensity of the pain also made him realize that even the brief lull in the fighting must have allowed a slow in his adrenaline. It was the wrong time as well to now be noticing the unsettling run of red he was also starting to contribute to the scene.

"Hex!" Lash called, wholly unconcerned with any pride when he knew he would likely not be fast enough to dodge the next shot. And they'd traded life saving favors so many times, it wasn't even worth considering who was indebted to who at this point.

Jonah knew that if any of the sons of bitches had a bounty on their head, he'd be a lot less angry later about the bullets he was about to waste now, as he then finally responded in kind, unleashing his twin .44's like cracks of thunder onto the men of the alleyway.

At this horrific new development, there was amazing fear in the eyes of those already wounded in the street. Men who now may be realizing it only God's grace that they'd encountered the kindness of Bat Lash before the lack thereof from the behemoth in old confederate rags now known to them as the monster Jonah Hex.

Lash alone knew that the only reason the men in the alleyway then had their hearts instead of their brains suddenly exploding out the backs of their bodies, was because Jonah wanted to make sure their faces stayed recognizable. In the off chance he could make a profit off those soon unseeing eyes and frozen grimaces.

He tried not to watch regardless though, letting Jonah handle things as he was apt to. If Bat had been more on his guard, the men would not have had to die in such a gruesome way. So he had no right to tell Jonah how to treat them now. This was his fault alone for needing the help.

That self-directed anger was enough to bring him achingly back to his feet as he grabbed the nearest, still conscious man. Though just as swiftly picking up one of the bandits' dropped pistols in his other hand as well. Lash pressed the gun sight harshly into the flesh of the stranger's forehead.

Even if his style of speech was retained, the frigidness of his voice left nothing to question in regards to his current emotions or seriousness. "I regret it had to come to this. Honestly, Sir, I do. But as Ah'm sure is now painfully clear, this has escalated far beyond what you expected...or _anything_ that should have been warranted for the petty crimes I've committed here. So I suggest it'd be in your best interests to now tell me the truth of what you wanted. This can't all be about some damned crooked poker game..." Hell, the only reason he'd cheated in the first place was because _they_ had. Fair was fair, but this certainly wasn't worth a massacre at dawn.

The response of fear in the man's face told Bat that the stranger was no hardened killer though. And that only made it all seem even more senseless and difficult of course, but Lash wasn't going to leave this place until he knew why those men had had to die. He glowered, shaking the man once as hard as he could muster, even as he continued to bleed from the shoulder. "I'm talking to you, dammit!" He wasn't as weak as he looked. If they didn't understand that yet...

His hostage stammered, the added viciousness from the outlaw finally loosening his lips. "You…you are Bat Lash! He told us to kill you if you ever came here, Señor…kill you and collect the bounty for him!" He kept on rambling, too nervous to now know when to stop. "He said we would know you by the flower you wear, and the gambling, you cannot be beat at a card table! And that your weakness for whores would offer our best chance to-"

"Who!" He barked, though an abrupt turn of his stomach already had him assuming the name.

Jonah emerged like a tower at his side then, now reloading his pistols with a deep scowl. He answered what they were both thinking. "El Papagayo?"

"Si! Si!" The man offered instantly. Even with Lash being the one holding the trigger of the gun that was still to his head, it was evident the bandit seemed even more terrified of making eye contact with Hex once the hunter had joined them. "But he said never to try when you were together…God help us, we did not know!"

"Wasn't planned," Jonah only huffed, reholstering his still warm Colts. He then ignored the man entirely, looking directly back to Bat. "Ask him where that piece of shit is."

It would have been a strange command, since Jonah was standing right there and could speak at the man just as easily. But Bat understood. It meant ask him _your_ way, because if Jonah took control, it was doubtful that Lash would agree with any of those methods. Not in this instance at least.

"You heard him," Bat grumbled, though doubting they'd learn anything further from this one squirming man. Papagayo was an enemy they'd apparently had the misfortune of sharing even before meeting one another. Lash only did his best to avoid the murderer and his web of mercenaries, having no intention of stumbling back into that hornet's nest willingly. But the fact that even Jonah hadn't successfully tracked and killed the snake as of yet, even after the many cruelties Papagayo had inflicted upon Hex himself, left something to be said on the lunatic's dangerous resourcefulness.

"I…I do not know. He moves so often. He was in eastern Texas the last I have heard. But I do not have high rank in his affairs…he only demands revenue from our town…"

Bat felt Hex's hard stare upon him, but he had no intention of beating the man for further information. He was sure that was the truth. The level of fear this man held for them spoke of inexperience and low affiliation. He glanced to the side, making eye contact with the bounty hunter.

Jonah's good eye burned at him, leading to a silent contest of wills for a moment. But Bat was certain there'd be nothing more to be gained and only looked back down to the man again. "I think my friend would also like to tell you that he has _no_ reservations of applying the worst known Indian tortures to you if you are not being fully forthcoming with us."

The words easily terrified the poor soul all over again as he trembled in Lash's grip. "I swear it! On my mother's grave! It is all I know, please Señor!"

Hex grumbled loudly, glaring abruptly out to the others, "What about the rest of ya! _That it?_"

Those who had only been watching in silent awe now came to match their unlucky friend's fear. One by one they all affirmed that they had nothing else to add.

Bat dropped the man unceremoniously at that. But the searing pain in his back was again becoming his focus, they needed to move on while he still had the energy for it. If Hex wanted to pass on anything else to Papagayo through these men, that would be his own concern. Bat wasn't the type to ask for that kind of trouble needlessly.

"I'm going to go get dressed." He announced tiredly, rubbing at his face before snatching his empty revolver back up and limping for the stairs.

"Train leaves at eight," came an indifferent sounding grunt from the street a few moments later. There was only a ruffle of papers after that as Hex began searching through his wanted posters for any matching faces.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Train to Nowhere

There wasn't a damn one of them that had been worth a penny to him. Hex could have predicted as much though just considering precedent, as about any time he'd ever helped that other man, there hadn't been a thing in it for him in the end.

The lack of profit was even more embittering though considering how much he was sure that gambling fool Bat Lash had likely stole off with the night before. Milking down to the last pittance, whatever patsies had made the mistake of sitting across from him in any type of cards the night before.

He could at least figure that Bat was in a similar predicament to himself horse wise though, considering the lack of any truly healthy looking animal tied up waiting in front the building he'd fallen out of. That would be one rare positive that Hex could concede about the other. The man did know all there was to horses. If Lash had _ever_ had an honest living, Jonah would bet ranching or horse breaking had figured into it somehow. And that combined with his pride would likely sooner have Bat caught walking and muddying those slick boots of his, rather than taking to any of those sickly rides Jonah had seen.

But even the idea of that shared bad luck couldn't really placate Hex. Because even if he was right, it would only mean the two of them would now be forced to share the same train out of this ugly pit of a town. He wasn't a very imaginative man, but he could think of a few ways he might be spared that incessant talk. For one, God knew Bat Lash's fascination with clean dress and proper washing up could rival that of a woman's. Combine that normal time taken, with delay by a shoulder full a shot and what was probably a twisted leg, and just maybe Hex wouldn't have to think another thought about him once this train was on its way.

Regardless though, Jonah certainly hadn't waited around for him either way to know. The bounty hunter had stomped right on off with his bag as soon as he'd realized there wasn't a body there who'd be covering any of his time or ammunition wasted.

Now already having bought his ticket and settled in, he could at least note that there weren't many people in his train car for him to potentially have to deal with in the next many hours. Of course many had scooted right on to more vacant seating when he'd first lumbered in. But that suited him just fine as he now propped his dirty, well weathered boots on the seat across from him. He started digging in his similarly conditioned coat for some tobacco to light while the workers did whatever the hell was required to get this big piece of iron ready to start rolling again.

He didn't know how it all worked, nor did he care. The only actions of machinery that made sense to him were the chain reaction involved from a trigger pull to a firing pin's strike. Anything else didn't impress him, no matter how big or complex. Because regardless of how fast this fat old steamer could go, he was certain a horse would always be more reliable in the long run. Especially when you could shortcut across any land you desired, following any trail or crossing any river in comparison to the sitting duck this contraption was. One straight path, always and forever until they tore the whole damn line down again and decided to build a new one.

It was a good while he got to sit there and smoke in silence though, more and more picturing a whole trip of nothing but the same as he stared out the window impatient to see the station start moving away at any moment. He heard and felt the brakes release, and it was then almost tempting to think that that'd finally be it. But nothing came that easily in his life. That was always the truth wasn't it?

Bat Lash had no fear in abruptly interrupting such a sullen looking figure. He only imagined what mighty thunderclouds could be rolling around in that brain of Hex's as he even tipped the brim of his hat to the hunter in greeting. The rush of earlier circumstances was still no excuse for absence of a proper hello. It had been months at least since he'd heard hide or hair of the man. "I assumed you would have cleared out a whole car for yourself by now, Jonah…perhaps you didn't scowl quite gruesome enough this time? I see ya missed a few women and children in the back there. They don't look much worried. You must be slipping, friend."

He bit into his cigar a little at the word 'friend', glancing up at the other without much expression. His boots were still propped on the opposing seat, obstinately blocking the way. "Consider this here a toll bridge…if'n you're gonna sit _anywhere_ over here running that mouth a yours the whole dadgum way, we're gonna have to negotiate something that ain't gonna have me tossin' ya out onto the tracks the first couple miles…and probably every ten or so after that."

Lash smiled genuinely at the idea, grinning widely for likely the first time since he'd been so rudely interrupted this morning. "It really has been a while, Hex…I'm glad to see you never disappoint me by doing anything so ridiculous as changing that cold entrepreneurship and matching devil soul of yours. I suppose I'd be the billy goat to your troll, now wouldn't I?" Bat amused himself at the mental imagery of that particular fairytale, then fiddling in his own bag for a moment, before pulling out a handful of crisp bills.

He displayed them briefly between his fingers as so the other could note their authenticity. "Cost of .44 caliber bullets spent from your colt Dragoons," He flicked his hand to rotate the bills as cleanly as if they were cards, then showing the next denomination in the row, "With added interest to cover any standing tax on friendship or other related sociable kinship that pains you so," Once more he turned his wrist to reveal the last hidden bill, "_And_ a small bonus for mercy to spineless, little-fish associates of our beloved Mexican head hunter, may they survive to grovel another day." With that he slipped all the bills back into his palm, straightening them neatly before passing them over to Jonah.

Hex only groused over what he'd been given, the lack of complaint deeming it somewhat acceptable. Though Bat still wasn't finished. He'd thought even further ahead as per the usual. "Though the real reason I about had to leap onto the caboose as the train was departing, is because I couldn't bear to pass up an opportunity for proper anesthetic while we still remained in civilization, and at least some semblance of entertainment on what is assuredly too long to be sitting in any one place. Current company's value excluded of course."

There could be no mistaking the real glint that came into Hex's eyes when Lash then pulled out two large bottles of what was assuredly the finest whiskey brand in the territory. It was true that even two men so drastically different as themselves, could still share very certain vices.

"Ya bought that?" Hex questioned, letting his leg blockade down somewhat gingerly then to let Bat pass into the seat opposite him as he accepted one of the bottles without hesitation.

Lash tried not to wince as he sat, or look too relieved just to take the weight off his now definitely swollen right ankle. But he was sure Jonah already knew the answer to that question since he was even asking at all. "Well, it was the _least_ they could do after I was thoughtful enough to remind them that even after they were rid of us, our potential passing of word to Papagayo would certainly have him burning the town to ashes if he ever heard we didn't depart it in pine boxes."

Jonah just looked at him, opening the bottle. "That all?"

Bat gave a sly grin, but there was no shame in his answer. Decency was only relative to those you were dealing with after all. "Also, my gun doesn't much like the restraint of my holster when I'm that parched or hurried. But you know that as well as anyone." He opened his own bottle before taking a hard swig. It burned mightily. Quite different to the usual fine wines he was apt to indulge in over cards or dinner. But satisfying to a hard morning's fight and a throbbing shoulder all the same. He leaned his head back, letting the brim of his hat slip down over his eyes as to block out the window's persistent sun. "But I did tell them. Gives 'em the chance to run if they like. You know he'll find out one way or another. They'll be lucky if they make it through the month as is."

* * *

When they drank this heavily, it usually wasn't together. Or if it was, it only ended up with them secluded with their own women, in their own respective hotel rooms.

Hex could drink himself to blackouts that could last for _days _when the time was right, but not tonight. What Bat had found was some damn fine drink, but the bounty hunter got his fill and actually did appreciate the rarity enough to bury it back in his bag for safe keeping at least for now. The gambler on the other hand, he apparently hadn't been kidding at all when he'd said he was looking for a good anesthetic.

Obviously Jonah wasn't about to complain at this unexpected gift of silence however. There'd been some initial rambling of course, on all variations of things as the alcohol had first taken Bat. After telling a good many stories of similar events to this morning, that had occurred to him since last they'd crossed, somehow conversation had gotten onto the subject of symbolism. With Lash's opinions on why the west still needed such vastly different men as the two of them.

The outlaw had tried to explain his ideas in that poetic way of his, all the educated words meaning less to Hex the more and more he'd gone on. It was mostly all a bunch of hogwash Jonah hadn't commented much about, being pliant with whiskey himself at the time.

But it'd been hours now. Nighttime in the dark train car, and Hex was the lone one still awake as Lash had sometime earlier slumped against the window, hat down over his face, stone cold drunk and dead to the world.

With his loosely tied ascot now hanging crumpled to the side, Jonah could see under the man's collar to the makeshift bandaging he'd no doubt attempted in a rush that morning. Even if they had stayed, there likely hadn't been a doctor to speak of in that dump. And even if there were, certainly not one a smart man would trust. Bat had most likely just taken a knife to a bed sheet and wrapped the strips tight as all hell around his torso to attempt and stem the bleeding from the wound.

Hex was willing to bet that the shotgun pellets had probably hit bone to boot. The fool had been ridiculously lucky that it'd missed his head and spine. But Lash would still have a hell of a time getting somebody to dig that out without the whole mess rotting. Though granted it could rot even if he chose just to let it heal over. Least the man didn't normally use two guns. If his shoulder ended up locking up for good, he always had another arm to use.

Though of course, no possible end fate was cruel enough to evoke sincere pity in Hex. A man had to be held accountable for his own actions. Bat Lash could be an idiot, but he wasn't so young as to not have learned that lesson of responsibility many times over by now.

Hex fidgeted though, annoyed at his own lack of sleep and the fact that he was even staring at or contemplating the other for such an extended period because of it. After a while he raised his long legs again, bending his knees well enough to prop his boot heels back onto the other seat once more. This blocked Bat in, but it certainly wasn't as if the man would know or care anytime soon.

Jonah leaned his head back, trying to take advantage of the relative quiet of the train while it existed. The only real light as they crossed the plains was that of the moon and stars above. The faint flicker of lantern light coming from each train car scarcely made a difference in the open expanse of night.

* * *

He'd lost consciousness somewhere along the way. But that was the farthest realization from his hazy mind whenever pain had exploded back to the forefront with what felt like a grown buffalo piling into his chest and crushing his hurt shoulder back into the seat.

Whatever curse or epithet Bat Lash had first gasped was lost in that of many louder screams as he tried to push whatever the huge mass was back away. He couldn't see enough to count himself sighted, vision dark and blurred as he grasped for whatever he could. He did find hair, and yanked as violently as he would have if it were a great wolf that had him pinned.

Such desperation helped him none though as suddenly the beast was at his throat for the effort, closing it off until he couldn't so much as wheeze.

It'd taken the monster a lengthy moment as well to recognize what it was fighting. But Jonah was still much too pissed to release Lash outright as he growled directly in the outlaw's ear to drown out the panicked voices of the other passengers.

"Dammit, quit your squirming and listen tuh me! Somebody put the brakes on us. Hard. Ah'm willing to bet this ain't gonna end nicely. Now stay out of muh way and keep yer head down! You picked a fine time to be floppin' around like some poisoned bird!"

He moved back enough to throw Lash down to the floor between their seats before standing to head quickly out into the aisle. Whoever it was that was brazen enough to jump a train in the middle of the damn night had to be figuring they had achieved the ultimate element of surprise.

Normally, something like this would be not a lick of his concern unless one of his bounties was the one making the fuss. But having him torn from a good sleep by cracking his skull right against another man's, practically waking them up on goddamn _top_ of each other certainly made it his business.

Jonah wasn't fooling around in the slightest as he jerked a rifle from his bag, shoving past anyone unlucky enough to still be floundering on the floor as he stormed towards the next cab and the front of the train.

* * *

He pawed at his own nose in a bit of disbelief before slouching back against the bottom of the seat, still awkwardly seated down on the floor as different noises came from all around. Blood was running down onto his lips from where they'd hit, but there was little he could do beside smear it haphazardly with the back of his glove.

The outlaw had embarrassingly little coordination as of now, taking him time even to unholster his pistol as he sat there staring into the darkness.

It'd all been an incoherent blur of pain and noise, but he knew there was a fight going on somewhere. Every now and then there'd be a gunshot. Even from far away it rung in his ears, making his fingers twitch and jerk in confused reflex.

What was he supposed to be doing? Waiting? He remembered Jonah vaguely giving orders.

There was a new commotion somewhere behind him. His mind was slow, but eventually he realized it was the cab's other door. Someone coming from the back. Bat tilted his head as if somehow that'd clear his hearing.

"…each and every one of ya! Gold, cash, wedding rings, don't fucking care. It's now worth more than your life and it's going in the bag!"

He heard kids crying. A woman pleading.

"I said now dammit!" Whatever it was wasn't given fast enough. He heard a hit not so unlike the one he'd delivered what now seemed a lifetime ago this morning, and then a body hitting the ground. Followed by more screaming. "That's what you get you damn whore! Lucky I'm feeling so damn charitable!"

There were only seconds until they'd be to him. There hadn't been many in their car. But there wasn't anywhere he was about to go. Not like this.

He tried to focus, at the last moment he shoved his revolver back under one of their fallen bags. If they saw it, it'd only make things harder.

Then he was there. A white man dressed in all black was about all Lash could make out. Besides the obvious gun barrel pointed down in his face.

There was an audible sneer from the stranger. "Looks like you're already fucked enough, Mister. Hand it over."

He tried not to slur too heavily, even if it may have helped his case. "Ah'm broke. Pined it away on booze and women if ya couldn't tell…" The sound of the hammer pulling back didn't even hurry him. But putting together the words was more grating than he'd expected. "All I've got is a family heirloom…my Pa's pocket watch. Have it…worth more than that iron of yours. Pure gold…"

Lash knew it best not to fumble too long as he indeed produced the old watch from one of his jacket's inner pockets.

"See? And engravin' on the edge…" The angle was all too important as he offered it up. He knew he had only one chance. The other had to lean in enough though. It wouldn't work twice.

And there it was. The impatient thief couldn't wait for the drunk on the floor to raise it high enough for him. He bent in to snatch it.

The last mistake the train thief could ever make, as Bat hooked his thumb into the loop of the watch's stem and jerked it exactly then.

The bandit's forehead opened in the flash and bang of a single derringer bullet. The body dropped like a wet sack to the floor as Bat only lowered the watch away slowly, watching the tell tale trickle of blood.

The small hole which looked just a part of the ornament's decoration still smoldered as he finagled the now warm piece gradually back into his jacket. He closed his eyes after a while, putting his aching head back to the seat again. He'd seen enough of this for one day.

"Sorry, fella…hated to do that," He mumbled to no one that'd now hear him. And it wasn't even his father's either of course. As if his honest upbringing could have ever had room for such an underhanded little torture like a single shot pistol buried in the ornateness of a fake time piece.

* * *

"I duhn care, I told ya!" the woman screeched, once again berating his ears as he could only become more and more infuriated at her mule headed insistence on what was hers.

"I killed 'em and I got a right to at least one of 'em!" He snarled as the argument only continued in circles.

"Ah've been trackin' these owlhoots for weeks, Hex! You ain't got right to shit! Now give me the bodies and I'll be on muh way!"

"Fine! I'll take the blasted heads, keep yer damned bodies!" He'd unsheathed his knife and set to work before she could even get another syllable in.

But there was more hate in that woman's _one_ eye than likely he thought he'd ever seen in a whole platoon of vengeful men. She was on him like a mountain lion as they went tumbling back to the other side of the cab.

The engineer and his surviving man had been watching this play out for many minutes now, unsure anymore as to even _who_ they should fear most as the disfigured couple rolled and clawed…and bit.

Hex grunted, grabbing her by the hair to get her off. "You damn ugly, bitch! I told ya I wasn't gonna be so nice the next time you tried that!"

The trainsmen cringed as she only cracked her shotgun across him in response. "THEN QUIT TRYING TO STEAL MUH BOUNTIES!"

The melee seemed it could possibly go on without end. Like watching a bout of dog fighting in which neither beast seemed to fear pain or injury from the other, and would not release its hold until fully dead. In the end, it was only feasible that they may forget the bystanders entirely and more innocent life could be lost. The head train operator had a moment of bravery, remembering the crew's responsibility to its passengers and cargo as he looked quickly around for anything to defuse the situation.

Jonah slammed her to the wall as she clawed into the good half of his face. Her spurs were trying to dig into his sides as he hit her against the wall even harder.

They both could only pause as a sudden gush of water landed on top of them, then splashing down onto the floor.

The engineer grasped the now empty pitcher as if it would somehow offer protection, quickly backing away from the two of them. That was the only trick he knew for stalling dogs. He spoke up timidly, knowing it his only chance, "We…um…we very much appreciate your dispatching of these train robbers that have killed so many railroad men these last several months. But…with safety to our passengers and adherence to the rigidities of our professional schedules in mind…we do need to be moving the train on again. I'd ask that you take your robbers, and please leave..."

Hex and the woman simply stared at the unimposing man. Then back to one another.

"Ah damn well rather a horse anyway. Ah'm taking one of theirs." Jonah spoke then, as if daring the female to challenge him on that as well.

But she didn't, only straightening her coat the way it'd been before Hex had tried to drag her across the room with it. "How long ya gonna be?"

"Gotta get muh stuff." He grumbled, heading for the door.

* * *

She outright cackled, holding her knees a moment as Jonah tried to ignore her. "Your _stuff_, huh? Ah'm not surprised, Hex! Really I ain't!" She approached the one on the floor carefully though, catching his chin gently in her hand.

"Bat Lash, you poor devil, what has he duhn to ya now?" She used the bottom edge of her shirt to wipe the blood at his nose and lips. "But ya know…I don't even think I ever saw ya bleed so much before. It's kinda a good look to be honest. Bit more masculine than the usual I'd say."

"Tallulah…" He spoke in half question to the woman, though also looking around a bit until he saw Jonah.

Hex was busy cutting through the neck of the dead man beside them. "I reckon now he's gonna want the bounty on this one?" He asked with irritation.

But Tallulah just tsked. "He don't need the money. Ya know he don't like all that violence being attributed ta him anyway. I reckon he won't mind if two of his closest huntin' friends split it." She thought on it a moment though, watching Lash as he only looked back at her. "Also, I reckon we may be owed a little something for making sure he gets outta here in one piece…the hell is wrong with 'em anyway? He ain't said but a word!"

Jonah twisted the head to free it from the spine with a crack, lifting it up then by the hair to place in a separate bag with the others. "Drank to the bottom of a bottle, got shot up, fell out a winda', and killt two men in the same day. Ya know how he thinks killin' ain't what he's good for."

"Not in that order…" Bat tried to protest.

"Shot?" She questioned, immediately trying to notice any other obvious blood stains on his clothing. "Did ya already get it out?"

"Nope." Hex lifted his bags, waiting on her.

"Well why the hell not, ya idjut! He woulda done it for you!"

"Do muh hands look like they're made to finesse, woman? It can't be more than birdshot in his shoulder since it didn't blow the whole thing clear off! If'n yer so concerned, you can do it!"

Bat groaned, finally trying to pull himself up. Normally their incessant bickering and pent up sexual tension was more than entertaining. But right now all the yelling was just throbbing through his temples. "Can…we go?"

Hex huffed, walking on without them.

Tallulah rolled her eye, letting Lash put an arm around her to help steady himself. "Man needs to learn ta play well with others."

"_Him?_ Impossible, dear." As they trudged on, he considered trying to ask why she was sopping wet, but decided that would be the least unusual thing to be noticing tonight.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
